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#hot travel offers
waywardsalt · 3 months
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alright because it is now a list,
list of characters i want (need) to draw gore of:
My Elden Ring Tarnished
Linebeck
#salty talks#linebecks been on this list its my tarnished whos the new one. bc i was playing elden ring earlier#with linebeck is jsut like. i think itd be hot if he were covered in blood. yknow. the whole deal#with my tarnished its more me toying with the concept and it just working well with how i play her#as extremely aggressive n intending to Do Damage n just fighting through poison of scarlet rot or just facetanking attacks to get a hit in#im kinda interested in the idea that a tarnished can get pretty mangled up and keep going before getting killed#and i can have fun visual stuff with her since her face is covered by the guardian mask so i can play with clothing/armor damage#today i killed rykard (ridiculously fun fight btw. extremely fun) and thought abt like. her fighting recklessly and with the bloodthirst#to fight even while in the lava around him to the point where it melts away the bottom of her greaves and chars and damages her feet#i play elden ring like i play pokemon i intende to do as much damage as possible so dual straightswords and bleed buildup baybee#and my girl is absolutely just covered in blood covered in muck making a beeline for every boss every enemy#i like the idea that she joined the recusants specifically because she was bored and wanted more stuff to fight#i started off with the samurai background so thats interesting to factor into her- like she was fighting in that civil war#before she was compelled by grace to travel to the lands between and is kinda stoked to find out that she cannot die permanently#and is therefore free to take on everything the lands between has to offer. shes also probably a lesbian#siding with ranni using tiche as the main summon eager to help rya and probably nepheli#she likes women in some capacity. royal knight loretta is a fav. anyways. she prob gets torn to shit but if she can keep fighting she will#morgott was a very quick and frenzied fight for me i imagine she takes bad wounds during that but still pushes to keep up with him#she is. fun. this got beyond the point but also this was kinda an excuse to talk abt my tarnished
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cookinguptales · 1 year
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man, I get anxious sending emails in English, I am in hell over here sending emails in Japanese. I haven't done this in a long time and I'm out of practice. ;;
it's very much like "sorry my grammar is so bad! I'm American!" and then I proceed to use year 3 grammar flawlessly while simultaneously fucking up year 1 grammar and looking like a fool. lmao
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muse-atelier · 4 months
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my dream job is literally just, get paid $8k a month to make art and travel
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offreedom · 9 months
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picture it. keira drags you to nyc for new years but get there stupid early to beat the crowds & stand outside for hours till midnight.
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corrodedcoughin · 9 months
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i absolutely adore your vibes and content. you were 100% my favorite account in my steddie and stranger things phase. i recently went through and unfollowed all the stranger things accounts i followed since i’m not into it that much anymore but tumblr glitched when i tried to unfollow you lmao it’s like fate is trying to keep you on my dash and i love it
You are trapped in here with ME. THESE are the emotions I am capable of, you have been WARNED
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(No but honestly this is the loveliest thing to have received, thank you so much and if you want I have a non ST account you can follow and we can be friends? Half the time I just feel obnoxiously loud on here when everyone else is in their servers and gc and I’m scuttling around with my goofs and admiration of you all. You are a very kind and wonderful person and I really mean that, you’ve made me feel so much better about coming back to here and I hope you have a wonderful time in your non ST dash. I’ll come haunt you with my reblogs from time to time until you’ve had enough)
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retrosabers · 1 month
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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.
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logan howlett x fem!reader
summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.
contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut
word count: 1.8k
a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3
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i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.
the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.
his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.
you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.
it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.
the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.
there’s only one explanation for it.
you’re ovulating.
which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.
so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.
of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.
then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.
you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.
after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.
cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.
“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.
but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.
still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.
“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.
you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.
“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”
logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.
“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”
guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.
you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”
“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.
but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.
it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.
“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”
his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”
“i’m not leaving you like this.”
“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”
now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.
“or what?”
suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.
“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”
when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.
that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.
“i can smell you.”
curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.
“i don’t understand.”
then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.
“i can smell you.”
the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.
oh.
oh.
slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.
he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.
logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.
“i can help you with that if you want.”
you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.
the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”
he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.
the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.
“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.
logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.
and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.
your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.
your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”
that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.
he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.
you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.
“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”
“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.
“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”
he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.
looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.
pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.
“lead the way sugar.”
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thanks for reading! <3
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primofate · 1 year
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[Genshin Impact] Sitting on his lap
Note: Watch me disappear for a long time again after this update.
Warnings: some are a bit suggestive, still safe for work though. established relationship with Genshin man, please excuse and tell me if there are pronoun slips
Premise: You just felt like sitting on his lap, nothing much to it...or so you think.
Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, gn!reader
Alhaitham
Continues reading his book unfazed, one arm automatically coming securely round your waist. He shuts his book after a few seconds more and passes you an upward glance.
"Need something?"
You only hum in response with a shake of your head, indicating that you had only wanted to be close to him. He sits straighter, chest pressing closer to your back. You feel the warmth of his lips press on the left side of your neck, his head tilted to gain access to it.
There's a deep inhale as he takes in your scent and a relaxed exhale that follows. You hear him whisper, voice almost a tone lower and a rare expression of affection passes his lips.
"You're intoxicating, do you know that?"
Ayato
Chuckles as you plop yourself on his lap. He had been doing some paperwork, but he pushes those aside as he wraps both arms around your middle, moving closer as his head rests on your shoulder.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The usual mischievous lilt in his voice doesn't disappear, he's amused that you've taken the initiative to come look for him, even though you knew he was in the middle of something. Before you could even reply, he beats you to it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.
"Am I right to assume that you, perhaps, missed me?"
"...and what if I did?" you counter with a smile of your own. Head turning sideways to look at him. He grins, one of his hands unravelling from your middle to travel up your face, landing on your cheek, pulling you closer to meet his soft lips.
The kiss starts off gentle, just yours on his. It starts to turn hungrier, still soft, but now it feels like hot lava is churning in your belly at the increasing intensity. He pulls away for a moment only to whisper "Then I'll have to do something about that,"
Baizhu
Looks up from his medicinal notes, taking a few seconds to gaze at your back.
The first thing you feel are his hands resting atop your shoulders, then his thumbs pressing small circles near the base of your neck. You let out a pleasurable moan, relaxing in his hold. Then, as if realizing what you'd done, your hand darts atop your mouth to hide a small laugh.
You could hear Baizhu chuckling alongside with you.
"No need to hold back, darling," his thumbs continue to press circles, now downwards along your spine, continuing his massage.
"Mmmmm..." you try to stifle the next moan coming, "This could so easily be misinterpreted by anyone passing by outside," the two of you share a short laugh yet again.
"Either way, all I'm doing is giving you some love, darling,"
Cyno
He blinks as he feels you sit on him. He was always uncomfortable with the initial position, and so what he usually did was pull you and your legs up, positioning you sideways over his lap, legs somewhat dangling over the armchair. One strong arm wrapped around your back, steadying you and allowing you to lean towards him, tucking your head under his chin.
"Is something the matter?"
You shake your head and offer a simple reply. "Nothing at all, I just wanted to be close to you,"
Your honesty always managed to tug at the edge of his lips the slightest bit. In opportunities like this Cyno didn't say much, instead he liked to savour your warmth melding with his, liked to feel your breathing in sync with his.
He silently presses a kiss atop your head before closing his eyes, and staying that way for a moment longer.
Diluc
Instead of you melting into his embrace it's Diluc who melts around you. The moment you sit on his lap his arms encircle you around your shoulders and pulls you flush against him, your back to his front.
From his position, he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, his hot breath tickling your skin. He closes his eyes and shields himself from the world for a moment, basking in the safety and love emanating from you.
"Hard day?" You ask him and he mumbles something into your neck, incoherent. He repeats it as he pulls away a slight inch.
"Not more than usual," he squeezes you around the shoulders as he says so. "and you?"
You reach a hand up to sift through his hair, he sighs at the feeling and nearly melts into a puddle. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you return his sentiment.
You play with his hair as he holds you close, and in that moment there really isn't much for him to say, though his heart bursts with emotion and fondness towards you.
"Stay with me, Y/N," he makes this request from time to time, and though the two of you have already sworn yourselves to each other, perhaps he needed to say it once in a while in order to hear the answer from you.
"I'll always be here, Diluc,"
Itto
The oni is rather cluless in certain aspects of life, but when you sit on his lap he's guaranteed to be flustered. You prop yourself on his thighs, hands positioned on his legs to keep you from falling in case he made any sudden movements.
"Y-Y-Y/N?!"
"Hm?" You innocently ask, tipping your head back to playfully look at his reddening cheeks. "...Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" you ask, a laugh threatening to escape your lips because of the look on his face.
"I-Well-*ahem* Sure I am!" He puts on a brave face, but he looks like he's also sweating bullets. His hands are stiffly by his side, and he's hesitant to touch you anywhere.
You decide to comfortably lean back and Itto could not think of anything except how warm and soft you were compared to him. He had to get it together, this happened every time you sat on his lap, and it was becoming uncool for him to keep blushing when you did so. He promised himself that he would "man up".
...He still had the same reaction the next time you did it.
Kaeya
Kaeya reacts as if this was an every day thing, in fact this was always a good opportunity to flirt with you.
"Found your favourite spot have you?" Kaeya twists around to peer at you, grin plastered on his face, hand finding your thigh.
"It was tempting, you were just sitting there and it looked like a good place to rest," You returned his grin and felt his chest rumble with laughter.
"You're always welcome, snowflake," his hand squeezes your thigh, eye seemingly glinting with mischief. He shifts around on his seat, making space in between his legs and pulling you right between them, arms tight around your waist, front pressing against your back. "But you'll have to pay a small fee for this exclusive seat, I'm afraid,"
He tilts his head down to gaze at you expectantly, seemingly leaning closer. You smile, tilting your head up for you lips to meet. Kaeya doesn't half ass his kisses. It turns passionate in a split second and his hands are starting to wander up and down your thigh.
"Tsk, tsk," you let out as you part, your noses still connected, gazes steady on each other. "Are you sure it's just a kiss you want, sir?"
He chuckles, "Love, when have we ever stopped at just a kiss?"
Lyney
"Hm?" Lyney chides with a smile as he feels you become comfortable on his lap. He laughs when he realizes that you were not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Hello there my rose," His arms wrap around your waist, and his head rests on your back, snuggling into the warmth of it. He looks almost like a cat purring and rubbing onto their favourite scratching post.
It tickles you the slightest bit, so you bristle with soft laughter. "Lyney!" You warn, and he returns your sunny laugh with a chuckle, but doesn't let go.
"What's wrong, love?" He feigns innocence but now has resorted to placing butterfly kisses up and down your spine, taking a moment to lightly nip at the back of your neck before kissing back down again in a line.
By now you know he's doing it on purpose, so you twist around on his lap, and give him a half-hearted glare. "If you wanted kisses all you had to do was ask,"
Lyney finally pulls back and smirks, that same smirk that shows up when he's at the climax of a magic trick, about to reveal the grandest part. He leans back on the chair he's sitting on, placing both arms on the rests before lifting a hand up, wrists flicking upwards in a motion to beckon you over. "Well come now," the same hand tilts your chin gently towards his direction as he whispers, tongue briefly grazing over his lips, "Let me show you a real magic trick,"
Neuvillette
Neuvillette embraces you in and it almost feels like you're floating on a cloud, weightlessly relaxing in the air. His clothes help to cushion you, but at the same time Neuvillette himself is as warm as a fireplace and comfy as a sea of feathers. It feels safe in the arms of the Chief Justice, as if no harm will come to you. Sometimes you forget that you're in the presence of such an important man.
You almost always end up sliding down the slightest bit, the back of your head resting on his chest, his arm secured around your stomach. "Would you like to retire for the day?" he asks, and this is his code to ask you if you would like for him to stop working and walk back home with you.
"No, don't mind me," you whisper, burrowing further into him. You hear him sigh contentedly. With you, Neuvillette is lovestruck. Whatever is within his power, he would do it for you. He takes your hand and briefly presses his lips on the back of it. "Alright," and just like that he brings the paperwork back into his hands. Reading his notes and documents--highly confidential, by the way. Something that you shouldn't be reading--but he trusts you more than he trusts himself and that was dangerous, for someone like him.
If there ever came a day where you broke his trust, Neuvillette would most likely never trust another soul again. You alone was his deity of truth.
Scaramouche...Ruthless Prince Scaramouche?
"Whadd'you think you're doing?" his eye twitches as you jump on his lap. You glance backwards at him before turning away once again. "Getting comfy," you reply nonchalantly.
"Getting com--" the rest of the words were mumbled, you didn't catch the whole thing but it did sound like he said a very garbled and muffled "my ass" at the end of it. You ignore him and happily stay, humming as you read a book while you're at it.
Scaramouche glares at your back, taking a deep, long breath. For a moment he contemplated on just letting you do it, but the other part of him wanted to just push you off and let your butt painfully land on the ground.
As you were peacefully reading, you suddenly feel his forehead bump your back, though he wasn't holding nor hugging you at all. He stayed like that for a bit, as if he was praying to some God he believed--or didn't believe--in. After a moment he grumbles something more, but now has a firm arm around your waist.
He repositions, opening his legs a bit more to give you more space to rest in between them and then leaning forward to lazily loll his head on your shoulder, looking at the book you were reading. "...What trash are you reading now?" but his tone of voice had levelled off to calm, nearly peaceful.
"...101 ways to annoy your husband," you secretly grin when you hear him scoff. His hand finds its way to the spine of the book you're reading and easily grabs and flings it off to the side.
"You do that plenty, you don't need more ideas," his hold on you gets a little tighter, as if he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. "Y'know what I've been reading lately...?" you feel his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss but in the next moment you feel a slight nip that sends electricity down your whole being.
"Hm?" You ask absentmindedly, the question doesn't completely register in your mind, what with his hand edging closer to the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He breathes the next words into your ear huskily, his hand sliding upwards, and you feel a shiver making its way to your shoulders.
"101 ways to make you scream,"
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ghoulphile · 5 months
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sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul
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➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!
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It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.
City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?
Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.
Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.
It’s easy to get lost.
Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.
Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.
If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.
Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.
You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.
No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.
Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.
You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.
Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.
Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.
You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.
Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?
Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.
Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.
"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"
There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.
Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.
It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.
Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.
Pay dirt.
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Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.
Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.
Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.
He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.
Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.
Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.
A small mercy you’re thankful for.
While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.
You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.
Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.
Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.
Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.
Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.
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However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.
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The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.
Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.
Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.
Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.
"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."
Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.
“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”
Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”
He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"
“N-No…”
“How’s about I show you, then?”
Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.
“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”
What the hell is he talking about?
It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.
The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.
You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.
Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.
The Radstorm has finally arrived.
You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.
Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”
Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.
He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.
You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.
“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”
A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.
“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”
His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.
“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”
Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.
Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.
Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 
Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”
"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."
Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.
You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.
"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"
He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.
The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.
A shiver ricochets down your spine.
He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."
The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.
You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.
"So let me go?"
"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."
Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.
“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”
There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.
“Hey, wait--!”
You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.
Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."
There's no way he can't feel your reaction.
How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.
It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.
"You like this, don'tcha?"
You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.
He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"
You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.
"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”
A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.
Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.
You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.
"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."
A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.
Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.
"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.
You keen, low and wounded.
Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.
“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”
"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."
It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.
You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”
This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.
Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.
That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.
“I - I’m not sure.”
He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.
Stronger, quicker.
This is going to happen either way.
And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.
If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.
Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.
Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.
His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”
The or else goes unspoken.
Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.
You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.
So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.
Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.
You tense before forcing yourself to relax.
“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”
A test.
You breathe a sigh of relief.
“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”
Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.
“That’s what I like ta hear.”
Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.
He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.
And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.
Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”
His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”
Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.
“I-”
“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”
He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--
You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.
Is that a chance you’re willing to take?
No, no it’s not.
“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”
The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.
“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”
Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.
“I’m - YOURS!”
Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.
Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.
He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.
“Wait!”
Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.
You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”
“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”
Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.
Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.
Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.
“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 
“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.
The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.
"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."
He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”
Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.
Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.
You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.
“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”
You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.
Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.
“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”
“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”
With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.
“Just like that, Sweetheart.”
You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.
Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”
Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”
His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”
While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”
Pretty, you think, dazed.
Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.
“That’s it, there’s my good girl."
Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.
“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.
His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.
Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.
You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.
“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”
You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.
A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”
Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.
He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.
“And cum for me.”
A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.
Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.
“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”
A nip to the ear is all it takes.
“Hhaah, I’m--!”
The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.
You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.
In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.
“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”
You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.
Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."
“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”
You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”
“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”
The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.
“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”
3K notes · View notes
wyvernest · 1 year
Text
mating szn
PART 2‼️ (part 1)
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pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader
warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex
summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy
Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.
Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.
Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner. 
Too bad.
Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.
You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold. 
You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.
He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you. 
His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.
His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.
"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,
"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.
He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately. 
He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.
His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back. 
He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.
He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.
But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight. 
He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.
His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.
"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster. 
Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.
His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.
You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.
He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.  
"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.
"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.
"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.) 
You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.
"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.
He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.
Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.
You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.
Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.
The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.
As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.
His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.
He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his. 
Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.
He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.
The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers. 
Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.
Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties. 
He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)
Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.
You gasp, a little above a moan.
"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.
He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.
Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.
Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.
Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.
You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.
Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.
A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.
He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust. 
The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly. 
His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.
Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.
“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts. 
You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.
Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.
"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.
He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin. 
He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.
With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.
He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.
He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.
You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Dinner long forgotten.
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divider by @cafekitsune
a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing
TAGS
@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137
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almostempty · 23 days
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Never made it as a wise man
(joel miller x f!reader)
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Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.
Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 
However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 
You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 
Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre
ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 1.5 here
Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  
WC: 4.2k
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You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 
Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 
At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 
That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 
The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 
You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 
Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 
Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 
You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 
You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 
After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 
You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 
The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 
You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 
The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 
The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 
You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 
You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 
Still, no Joel, however. 
You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 
As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   
The next moment is a blur. 
“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 
You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 
“What are you doing here?” he barks. 
Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 
He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 
“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 
“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 
“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 
“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 
But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 
Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 
He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 
“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 
Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 
You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 
“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 
“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 
This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 
You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.
He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken
For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 
“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 
You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 
“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 
Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 
His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 
“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 
“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 
Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 
“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 
“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 
He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 
They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 
“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 
“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 
He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 
Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 
Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 
The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 
You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 
Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 
He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 
He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 
“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.
“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 
“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 
You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”
You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 
“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 
His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 
“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 
He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 
A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 
“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 
“You need more?” 
“Yes.” 
“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 
“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 
But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.
“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.
“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 
Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 
“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 
“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 
“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 
“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 
“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 
“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 
“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 
When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 
Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 
The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 
You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 
Joel
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divider by @cyberangel-graphics
Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh
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gallavichsreddie1128 · 2 months
Text
Like You Deserve (Wolverine)
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Description: Y/N wants to dom Logan
Warning: Smut
Word Count: 2,032k
Request: What about sub Logan smut?
Wade and Y/N had lots in common but one thing that stood out against the others was that they both wanted to Dom Logan ... .well Wade was never going to get the chance, Y/N made it her destiny to. Logan wouldn’t swallow his pride easy but Y/N saw the looks that he gave her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Her suit was like deadpool but sexier so her whole body was on display for him to gawk at. What better way to get Logan to agree to submission than a party?
Wade of course threw the party and Logan was trying to cut back on the drinking so he wasn’t drinking anything that could affect this experience. Y/N decided not to drink anything either so it left them as the only 2 sober people at the party. “How much you wanna bet that Wade’s gonna try to fuck Vanessa tonight?” Logan asked. Y/N looked at him, “With her boyfriend right next to her? Yeah probably.” They watched as Wade tried so hard not to flirt with her in front of her boyfriend. “Yeah I can’t watch this.” Logan cringed and stood up. Y/N stood up as well, “We can go somewhere quiet and chat.” She offered. 
Her bedroom was everything he thought it would be. It was all types of movies and comics, her room smelled so nice thanks to the candle she lit beforehand. Almost as if She had planned this. “So is there a reason you aren’t drinking?” He asked her. She usually drank at parties but today she wasn’t and he found that odd. “Just wanted to take a break.” “Bullshit.” She looked at him, surprised.
“There’s an actual reason you aren’t drinking.” She sighed, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She said. He turned his whole body towards her while laying on her bed. “Hit me.” She wanted to be like Wade and actually hit him rather than tell him. “You would certainly get it out of me drunk.” She said and looked over at him. “Or you could just tell me.” She shook her head, “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me say it.” She whined.
He got off the bed, “Fine then don’t. I’ll leave.” He said and went to leave her room. “I wanna fuck you.” She blurts out. He steps dead in his tracks and turns to look at her, “That’s it?” What did he mean by that? “Well I mean that literally. I wanna fuck YOU.” “You wanna be in control?” He asked as if she was joking. She nodded and her face got really red. “Yeah as hot as you are, No.” He said and she stood up. “You won’t let me dominate you? You don’t think that would be hot?” She asked. “Our first time fucking isn’t going to be you in control. It’s gonna be pounding into you like you deserve.” He said to her.
A few months later Y/N was handcuffing him to the bed, “What was it that you said to me before we got together? You wanted to fuck me like I deserve? Well baby boy I wanna fuck you like you deserve.” She purred and got off the bed to see him. He tried to hide his hatred for being chained up.
Y/N stared at his abs and muscles that were on full display for her to see. “Gosh baby you have such a perfect body.” She said and walked and started tracing his abs. They were perfect and hairy. “I just wanna hump every inch of you.” She purrs and he tenses up at her touches and words. Her fingers travel to his hard on that was clothed. It was the only part of him that was clothed.
The second her fingers traced over his hard on he hissed. “I barely touched you baby.” She teased and gripped him. He held back a pathetic moan of need as her tiny held what she could. She leaned down and licked up his abs making his breathing heavier. “Mmm you taste so good.” She said and took off her clothes. His eyes widened at her naked body as if he had never seen it before. He had tons of times but it never failed to amaze him.
Once she was naked she took her panties that were wet and shoved them in his mouth. “Just a little taste for later.” She winks at him. She straddles his body and moves up to his abs. They were hard and perfect for what she was about to do. She gasps as she runs her wet pussy over his abs getting them wet. He watched as she did this slowly teasing him but herself too. Each time her clit touched his abs she moaned a little louder each time. He wished that he could just take a hold over her and fuck her on his abs but he couldn’t.
It was long after that she was tired of teasing herself and started humping his abs fully. Her hands placed on his chest as she got a steady rhythm going. His eyes were glued to her face as he watched her pleasureful expressions. Her body thrusted against his as she gasped and moaned. “Fuck for so long I’ve dreamt and humped my pillow just imagining your abs.” She whined as the bed shook with her thrusts. He moans against the panties at her words. She removes her panties from his mouth and puts them in hers as she continues to ride him. “Fuck baby girl you look so hot.” He groans and her head falls back. The panties fall from her mouth as her jaw drops from how close she is. “Baby please wait and cum on my cock or my face. I don’t care.” He was begging. Something she never thought he would do. His abs felt amazing but his dick would feel better. She stops her humping and throws her panties somewhere in the room.
With wobbly legs she stands up and pulls down his boxers. His hard dick is leaking at the tip and begging to be touched. He was so big and each time she was still nervous about his size. She crawled back on him and took his dick in her hand. Though her hand couldn’t wrap all the way around it, it still felt good. Fuck it felt amazing to him. Her hands were like silk and he loved the feeling of them on him. He groaned and threw his hand as she started jerking him off, “That feel good bub?” She asked, teasing him and mocking his pet name for everyone. “Fuck darlin’ your hand is amazing but you’re pussy is better.” She giggled at his words. Fucking giggled. He loved that sound more than anything.
“Or I could make you cum so many times. Milking you dry.” She said and his eyes rolled at her answer. “I have you exactly where I want you Logan. I need to take advantage of that.” Her hand was speeding up the pace. His hips bucked up until her hand as he groaned. “The first time I cum has to be in that pretty little cunt. I won’t accept it any other way.” He grunts and she laughs. “Oh you won’t? I don’t think you have much say in where you’re cumming.” She says and speeds up her hand. He was so close to his orgasm but he didn’t want to cum like that.
“No fuck please let me cum in your pussy.” He begged her. There he was again, begging her. Her hand stops, “You’re very lucky that I wanna cum all over your cock.” She says and moves to position herself. She rubs his tip all over her pussy making them both gasp. “Let me inside please.” “Impatient little thing aren’t ya Wolvy? You’ll get what you want.” He was by no means little but that wasn’t what he was focused on. She was teasing him and it was starting to hurt. Before he could beg anymore she finally took him in and oh did it feel amazing. Her pussy swallowed him whole and he loved every second of her taking him in with caution.
Her jaw dropped as he ripped her open like it was the first time. Both of them are already edged and ready to go. Her pussy was leaking around him. His eyes couldn’t leave the sight of her taking him in until he was gone. “Fuck you’re so big.” She whined and let herself adjust to him. Though he was being an impatient fuck and thrusted up into her causing her to moan loudly. He smirked at her reaction but the glare that was present on her face told him he was in trouble. “You weren’t supposed to do that Wolvy.” She said and if it wasn’t for the fact that every time they had sex she had to adjust to him she would have gotten off him.
“Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” Oh wow. The begging was one thing but to tell her to fuck him. He had lost it, truly. She let herself slowly grind on his dick and even though he was whiny and telling her to stop teasing him, she enjoyed it. “I would be pounding into you now.” He groaned and she laughed. “I have never seen you so whiny and bratty. It’s almost like that’s why I’m doing it.” She started riding him a little faster. He wanted so bad to grip her hips and drag her on his cock. She could tell that he wasn’t happy with her pace but he was deep in her and hitting spots that even without him “ramming” into her, it still felt good.
She could cum from this pace but Logan needed more. Her head fell back and she let out little moans as her hips sped up a little more but not much. “You’re so deep.” She gasped out. He started growling like an animal and she looked down at him. “Aww baby is this not good enough for you?” She asked with a fake pout and sighed. “You’re lucky that I wanna cum.” She said before dragging herself on his dick and riding him the way he wants. “Fuck yes.” He groans, loudly. She whined his name and placed both her hands on his chest. His eyes never left her fucked out face.
“You’re so fucking pretty baby.” He groaned and if she could she would roll her eyes at him. He wanted her to let him touch her. “Let me mark you baby please.” He begged and she was high on pleasure to care so she stopped and grabbed the keys to the cuffs and undid them. The second his hands were free he gripped her hips and dragged her on his cock so fast it took her breath away. “Yeah that’s it baby. Fuck you look so good on top.” He praised her and her pussy fluttered around him at that.
He chuckled, “Yeah you like that? I know she did.” He looked down at her pussy that looked so full of his cock. “Logan fuck if you keep talking like that I’m gonna cum.” She whined. “That’s the point baby.” She felt herself on the edge but she wanted him to cum first. “Logan I need you to cum first baby.” “Never. My woman will always cum before me.” He groans and holds himself back. “Cum for me darlin’ drench my cock.” She gasped and let out a loud moan of his name as she orgasmed all over him.
He bit his lip and followed right after her. “Fuck baby.” She cried as she rode out her orgasm. His eyes never left her face to see how fucking pretty she looked as she came all over him. She collapsed on his chest and he hugged her. “You did so good, baby. You made me feel so good.” He said out of breath. She yawned and closed her eyes, “I love you Logan. Thanks for that.” He smiled and kissed her head, “Love you too bub.”
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yawnderu · 6 months
Text
ANGEL — Simon Riley x Reader
cw: toxic situationship, emotionally unavailable Simon, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Simon is canonically in his late 30s).
wc: 2,027 | Part II
“Shh, shh.” Simon can feel his heartstrings being forcefully pulled, the image of you crying, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cling to him for dear life, your fingers gripping his black hoodie.
“S'okay. I can introduce you to some o' my mates.” The look of exasperation you shoot his way is enough to make him try to hold back his laughter, knowing it's not appropriate. Part of him feels bad, but the other part defends itself by telling him he warned you.
Simon Riley doesn't do love. He doesn't do feelings— he's a dog, too tainted and dirty for someone like you, too doomed. He doesn't deserve you, and yet he can't stop crawling back to you despite the heartbreak he sees in your pretty eyes the moment tells you he has to leave.
“I don't want 'em.” His attention is dragged back to you, the whiny tone making his gaze soften despite himself.
“Can you just... fuck me like you love me? I don't care if it's fake, I just...” Another choked sob escapes your lips, soft fingers tightening their hold on the fabric of his hoodie. Simon doesn't say anything— there's nothing he can say to make it better for you. The one condition to your situationship was broken, yet he couldn't find it in himself to abandon you, not when you look up at him like a lost, needy puppy.
“Y'can pretend it's love...” He offers, his tone lacking any mirth or empathy, not when his lips are busy going down your neck, trying his best not to leave any marks or be too rough with you, fighting his own nature for your sake.
His scarred, pink lips travel down your bare body with a gentleness meant to soften the blow of his emotional unavailability, trying his best to counter the heartbreak, secretly hoping that he can slowly mend your broken heart.
“I'll be nice to ya.” His hot breath hits your bare stomach, making your muscles tense up at the sensation, an unwilling shiver running up your spine at the tenderness of his words and actions, something he never showed you when he used to fuck you.
“Treat you like the proper angel y'are.” Simon's guilt is pushed to the back of his mind the moment his lips plant against your clothed mound, his calloused hand going up to your stomach to gently push you down the moment your back arches, wanting to keep you nice and still for him. To take care of your needs, for once.
Simon is a patient man. A patient man, who runs his warm, wet tongue over your clothed cunt, paying especial attention to your hardened clit, only making the knot in your stomach tighten by the second, fingers lacing on his short blond hair, pulling him closer. The display of pure neediness makes Simon's lips tilt up into a small, soft smile despite himself.
His hands explore your soft legs, squeezing softly every once in a while just to reassure you that he's still there. That he's not going away for once. He can feel your muscles twitch beneath his palm, almost mirroring his neglected, throbbing cock.
Simon's warm hands sneak to the back of your thighs, subtly feeling up your ass with the pads of his fingers, slowly sinking into the fat and muscle before he's pulling your legs up, soft kisses planted on your pretty inner thighs, even going as far as to give them gentle love bites, knowing you don't care if he leaves marks— not when your slick is seeping through the fabric of your panties, ready as ever.
“Needy fuckin' girl.” His touch is as gentle as it could be for someone whose hands are used to responding with violence and aggression, sneaking up to the waistband of your panties, pulling down enough to reveal your glistening cunt, not minding how the black cloth was left neglected, hanging on your ankle.
Just like a man starved, Simon's wet tongue darts out of his mouth to give a long, sensual lick against your folds, savoring the taste of your slickness. His rough hands grip your hips to steady you, no longer minding the way your back arches from the pure pleasure he's giving you. He takes a second to admire the sight in front of him, his hot breath fanning against your cunt.
“Good girl.” His skilled, hungry tongue delves between your folds, lapping at your wetness with a need that matches your own. He explores every single inch of your pussy, his tongue flickering and swirling over your hard, swollen clit. His free hand reaches up to fondle one of your tits, his fingers digging into the fat as he devours you.
Simon's hips rock softly against the mattress, looking for any sort of possible relief for his hard, throbbing cock, neglecting it until he can't handle it, hesitantly letting go of your sweet cunt, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his strong, muscular arms. Your soft hand goes to his tattooed arm out of pure muscle memory, earning you a small smirk back.
“You want it, angel? This fat fuckin' cock inside you?” His hips jerk involuntarily, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels the familiar heat pooling in his abdomen, his hand going down to his zipper out of habit, lowering it just enough to pull out his cock— until he realizes that he promised to make love to you, not to fuck.
With slight hesitation in his movements, Simon gets up from the bed, brown eyes watching your reaction with such focus you'd think he's a predator ready to pounce on its prey... and in a way, he is.
His chest rises and falls heavily as he starts to discard his clothes until he's completely bare and vulnerable, something he's never done before for anyone. The way your gaze softens as your eyes examine his scars almost makes him want to put his clothes back on— to leave and to never come back. Simon doesn't deserve your empathy, not when he keeps making you cry, yet he swallows his discomfort back down, his body resting on top of yours, lifting himself up with his arms.
“Y'always take me so well, don't you?” Simon teases in a whisper, his breath hot against your ear. The sound of your wetness mingling with his leaking tip fills the room, dragging a small whine out of you as he teases your entrance for a few seconds, his eyes on yours the moment he sinks into you, giving you time to get used to his thickness before starting to push in deeper, a low groan leaving his lips the moment he hits your sensitive, spongy cervix.
Simon leans down, his lips pressing against yours as he starts to thrust into your needy, sopping cunt, every single inch of him stretching you out like you were made for him. A small shiver runs down his spine when your hand goes up and down his back, caressing the scars from the torture he suffered at the hands of Roba. He pushes the bitter sensation away, putting his entire focus on the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his, tiny strings of saliva staining the corners of your soft lips.
He pulls you closer, his grip possessive yet still so gentle and tender, his touch becoming more intimate. Simon buries his face on the crook of your neck, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your soft, warm skin.
“Y'like this, princess?” He rolls his hips against yours, pushing himself as deep as possible into your pussy.
“Bet my mates could fuck you better.” Simon silences your protests with a quick kiss, thrusting faster into you just so you become willing to hear him out.
“Could treat ya better, too.” His forehead leans against yours, staring deep into the pleading look you're giving him, silently begging him to stop talking about it— to love you, begging for something he can't give you even if he were to force himself.
“My captain's a good man. Y'like older men, don't ya?” His breath is hot against your cheek, his eyes finally screwing shot as your cunt tightens around him at the mention of Price, a low, deep groan making its way out of his throat.
“'Course you do.” He says with a small chuckle, planting tender kisses all over your cheeks, feeling your breath against his face as more whiny, needy moans leave your lips, your velvety walls tightening around his hard cock.
Simon's back bends slightly as he rests his cheek against your chest, your fast-beating heart giving him a slight sense of comfort he's never found anywhere else. His thrusts grow more desperate— faster and deeper, feeling your tits vibrate with each loud moan you're letting out, pretty legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
“My pretty girl.” Even if he's just playing pretend, the words coming out of Simon's lips feel right, his thumb massaging your cheek while he admires you from beneath him, looking just like an angel. Part of Simon pities you, knowing that he'll never be able to love you back, but he can keep pretending for as long as you need.
The knot in your stomach starts to slowly come undone with every single thrust, feeling his meaty cock throb inside you. Your head leans back against the pillow, pretty eyes closing as you allow the illusion of love to set in— to imagine what it's like to be loved by someone like Simon, to get fucked like this daily, with such tenderness and care.
Simon can feel your walls gripping him harder, only encouraging him to slam his hips against yours the way he knows you love it, the upwards curve on his veiny cock allowing him to hit your spongy cervix over and over, low groans and loud pants escaping his lips. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into the skin as he gets closer to the edge, his heavy balls tightening.
Simon lets out a shaky breath as you hold him closer to your sweaty body by the waist, the arch of your back allowing both of your hearts to be against the other's, both beating wildly with the heat of the moment. His face goes back to the crook of your neck as he lets out a loud, throaty moan as he spills his hot cum into you, riding out your orgasms, feeling your tight cunt grip him like vice.
He waits a few seconds before slowly pulling out of you, cupping your cheek just to have those pretty eyes look up at him with nothing but pure trust and love— so lovely, so pure, so untainted, unlike him. He lays down next to you, wrapping his burly arms around you and bringing your exhausted body against his, cuddling you up.
He plants gentle kisses all over your pretty face, basking in the afterglow of the intense love-making, admiring you like you're a piece of art... and truly, in Simon's eyes, you are. His phone vibrates against your bedside table, reaching out for it and letting out a small sigh at the message. Duty calls, and unfortunately, Simon can't get out of a deployment, even when part of his heart stays with you.
“My mates need me for a mission.” He says softly, planting one last kiss on your forehead before getting up from bed, putting his military-provided clothes back on. He stares at the sticky notes on your desk, giving you a small glance before leaning down and writing something on it, ripping the paper away from the rest and putting it down on your bedside table so you won't forget.
“'S my captain's number. Give 'im a call, yeah? He'll answer.” He promises, not daring to leave until you give him a small nod in confirmation, shooting you one last glance before leaving your room, the entrance door slamming shut soon after.
Your already teary eyes stare at the number written down on the sticky note, looking more enticing by the second.
John Price.
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gloxk · 10 months
Note
hate fuckin w aot plz🙏🏿 like uh what position would they fuck you in when they mad?
Fuck me like you mad at me baby.
(Eren Y. Connie S. Armin A.)
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A/N: BEAT THAT COOCHIE UP LIKE YOU MAD AT A BITCH! Sorry it took so long to get your request. But let’s just all agree Eren, Connie, Armin are the big three. I’m not arguing with anyone. It’s true. NOT PROOF READ! 17+
Synopsis: Aot men fucking you after an argument!
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༺Connie༻
—————ON DA WALL.
Connie isn’t going to show you he’s mad, but baby you gonna feel it.
And oh boy you done did it today. After he seen you flirt with a guy…jeez. You really got him walking around in circles trying to not scream at the top of his lungs.
You not going to know he’s mad for a while, after an argument and you THINK everything cooled down it hasn’t. He’s still pissed.
Props to him for controlling his anger (Eren could never.) But when you start sweet talking him again that’s when it comes out.
When you get to rubbing on his chest and start saying “I’m so sorry baby, lemme make it up to you. Please.” with that little whine in your voice…oh best believe he gonna make you sorry for real.
He gives you a small grin and says “Oh for real? You wanna make it up to me?” You should have never even offered because now look at you. Against the kitchen wall crying out how sorry you are.
“You sorry ma? How sorry?” The harshness of his voice craving down on you. You couldn’t even spit out a comprehendible sentence just “Yes mmm so sorry!”
He was satisfied with your sorry, after the second round. I mean after all you did offer…
༺Eren༻
—————FROM DA FRONT.
Now, Eren he’s rough rough when he’s mad. Like oh lord..pray he don’t get his hands on you.
Please run while you can, because after he got you alone you can’t run.
This was especially the case after he found out you followed a guy from your work place, the same guy who continuously flirted with you.
Don’t ask him how he knows, he just does.
“I ain’t dumb mama. So go ahead and do as I asked.” The request was so simple, just unfollow him. But the principle pissed you off, you never told him who to follow and who too not. So you refused. Wrong answer…
Because that refusal sent him through the roof. He just laughed while shaking his head. He tossed you on the bed with no regards.
You never been fucked so hard in your life…The headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust he gave you it was ridiculous. “Look at me while I fuck you.” Eren spat out.
Your poor neighbors, the surely heard the madness that was occurring in your bedroom. But Eren did not give a single fuck.
He had your hair twisted in his fingers while he watched you block ole boy on everything single app you had. “Nuh uh. you ain’t done yet. Block him on spotify.” You were going to learn not to go seeking attention from anyone that wasn’t him.
“Nobody’s better than me mama. You should know better than that.”
༺Armin༻
————— BENT OVA.
You would never expect Armin to act the way he acts when he’s MAD.
Of course he got upset with you before but never something that made you change your view on him.
He always tried to be understanding, always listening to what you had to say and what was wrong. But, today was a little different.
He got so mad that you commented on how his friend looked good. He took it as you wanted his friend, but that wasn’t your intention at all.
“Ah, I see. Well just how good did he look y/n?! Why don’t you just tell him how much you want him to fuck you!” His insecurities were really starting to show. But damn, he just look so fucking hot with his button up shirt slightly undone, and his hair sticking to face. His eyes widened, it was a sexy sight. Armin could tell how turned on you were getting from him slightly raising his voice.
“Fuck—y/n. Stop looking at me like that.” The threw his keys on the table while shaking his head. Armin couldn’t look at you while your hand traveled up his shirt rubbing his abdomen. You were making it so difficult for him to be mad at you right now. Especially since you started begging for him to calm down and let you make him feel better.
The small tugs at his shirt just really got him going. He immediately bent you over on the couch, throwing your clothes everywhere. “Can’t even look at you. So fucking filthy.”
You tried to move away from him pounding your insides, hoping to get a break but no. “What the fuck did I tell you about that shit? Just fuckin take it.” Sluts didn’t deserve a break. They didn’t get that courtesy.
Eventually his hatred turned into love and he started spilling out how much he loved you while he was close to cumming. “I love you so much.” & “You mean the world to me.” & “Wanna make you a mommy.”
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Ah! tysm for 400!
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f1fantasys · 21 days
Note
No, because I absolutely love your writing. You write smut so good. So I was think could you write something with Lando where he's reader's sugar daddy and they fuck alot but Lando is down bad for her. (No lando with toher girls, though) With a happy ending, my queen. 🧎‍♀️
Thank you anon, I'm so glad you like my writing! And i hope you enjoy this. Remember, requests are always open.
Whats yours is mine, whats mine is yours
Warnings: heavy smut, swearing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blowjobs, oral f receiving, fingering, anal.
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Lando Norris.
The hot fuckboy you met last year at the Monaco race where you were one of the grid girls. The minute your eyes met before the race started, you knew how the night would end.
It was sweeter because Lando had won the race. He quickly found you as his media duties ended, pulling you into his drivers' room. No words were spoken at first, just intense gazes, both knowing what the other wanted.
What was supposed to be just a one time fuck had turned into 3, 7 and now 12 months of fucking.
You both weren't in the right space for a relationship, so never even mentioned such. You were just finishing uni, starting an internship in Monaco, still trying to make grounds meet, while Lando was in a different city every week, so it made no sense.
You were fine with what you thought was just a one night stand, but you couldn't see yourself fitting into Lando's lavish lifestyle. He tried many times to assure you that he would take care of all your needs, even help you while setting your life up in Monaco. It wasn't until the third time you saw each other that Lando and you made a pact - friends with benefits, though he would continue to help you.
To be honest, you weren't expecting much from him. The sex was incredible, and you'd take it anytime. But he often showered you with lush gifts and expensive items, dropping money into your account without thinking. Normally you'd be opposed to accepting such from people, but the man was an f1 driver, and you were having fun, so you allowed yourself to indulge in everything he had to offer.
You'd text or call here and there whenever he was away, and he'd invited you to a few races as well, so you could use each other as you pleased.
One thing you wouldn't admit to anyone, was how you were falling more and more for Lando each time you saw him recently. You didn't allow your thought or feelings to consume you because you knew he was probably fucking every other girl everywhere he traveled, not so much as even thinking of you.
What you didn't know though was how deep in Lando himself was. The minute he layed eyes on you, he knew he was done for. You were beautiful, had long, lush hair, skin so smooth he always kissed every corner of it, and curves so sexy he'd get hard just thinking of you. He wasn't generous to you because he pity-ed you - no. You deserved everything single beautiful thing on this planet, and he made it his mission to give it all to you. He'd give you the moon if he could. You also didn't know that he hasn't slept with anyone since your first night together. He'd tried, but no one was a good as you, and he found himself comparing them all to you - so before it would get as far as penetrative sex, he would already be walking out or pushing the girl through his door.
Lando wouldn't dare make his feeling known because it would be unfair to expect you to accept his job and his traveling. One year on and you were doing well for yourself - working a full time job, and growing with each step you take. He didn't want to take all of that away from you just for him.
Lando had texted you earlier that he was on the way home from Nice, telling you to go wait for him in his apartment.
While you were waiting for him in his room, you wondered if he'd bring other girls here on the nights you didn't spend together. Would he fuck them senseless as he did you, devour their pussy's like he was a starved man, and moan their name when he came as he did yours?
Your thoughts were interrupted when Lando suddenly walked through the bedroom door. You didn't realize how lost in thought you were that you missed hearing the front door open.
''Hey, you good?'' he asked, seeing your face contorted with confusion. ''Huh? Uh, yeah, sorry, thinking about work'' you lied.
You sat on your knees as he walked up to you and cupped your face, leaning down to lock his lips with yours in a feverish kiss.
His actions had you moaning already, which allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth as he slowly started removing your clothes.
Once you were left in just your panties he pulled back and stripped his own clothes.
You watching in anticipation as he finally took off his boxers, revealing his thick girth, swollen and standing tall.
He smirked, ''Like what you see?'' he asked. You licked your lips, ''So much'' you said, wasting no time in taking him into your hands and pumping him a few times.
It had been a while since you had seen each other so to finally feel your hands on the place he craved you the most, he was twitching uncontrollably in your hands.
''Someones' needy'' you chuckled as your thumb spread the pre-cum all over his tip, watching as his core muscles flexed with every movement.
Lando's breath increased and he couldn't take just your hands anymore. ''Fuck y/n, please'' he begged.
Normally you'd liked to have teased him a bit more, hear him beg a bit more, but honestly, you were just as desperate for him.
You finally leaned forward and took his tip into your mouth, sucking on it harshly as Lando held your head in his hands, guiding your movements.
He slid in as much as you could take, hitting the back of your throat which had you gagging around him.
''So pretty for me, taking me so well'' he whispered as he began to move, fucking himself into your pace at a raw pace.
You held onto his thighs tightly as Lando took full control, using you how he wanted because he knew how much it turned you on.
You already felt your core dripping wet, clenching achingly around nothing, so you crossed your legs and squeezed your thighs together.
The sounds you were making right now were borderline pornographic - Lando was throwing out moans and swear words like crazy, you were moaning and groaning at his relentless movements in and out of your mouth, and then there were the wet, slick and sloshy noises of his dick sliding through your spit which was now running out your mouth and messing your chin.
''Fuck baby, not gonna last long now, where do you want me?'' he asked, as always. When you didn't respond, he knew he was to finish in your mouth.
So he did - Lando's dick was throbbing uncontrollably as he came violently, shooting ropes of warm cum down your throat as his hold on your head tightened. ''Shit, how do you do that, fuck, yes'' he moaned.
''Hmm'' you hummed at the taste of him, slowly working him through his high as he slowly softened second by second.
You pulled off with a pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, breath heavy and lips swollen as you looked at Lando, who's eyes were still shut, his own breathing quick. ''Missed that so much'' he said, genuinely smiling down at you, releasing his tight hold of your head.
He now picked you up and off the bed, headed into the bathroom and placed you on the counter.
You hissed at the coldness as wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer, kissing him with a sense of urgency and desperation, this time sliding your own tongue into his mouth and pulling at his hair.
Lando lowered his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at your sweet spot as you bit on your lower lip, trying to keep your body from trembling since he had barely touched you yet.
''Hmmm Lando, please'' you begged, not sure what for, though quickly releasing a breath when his mouth landed on your left nipple, tugging and pulling at it, showing it no mercy.
Your nails dug deep into his biceps when he rolled your other nipple between his fingers harshly.
When he pulled back to spread your legs open, your breath hitched at seeing a string of spit still connecting his mouth to your nipple, and he smirked too when he noticed it. It might have been a small thing, but it was so hot, and you couldn't help but pull him closer and kiss him again. You fought each other, teeth clashing and biting one another until he finally pushed you back to lean against the mirror.
''Need to taste you'' he mumbled, spreading your legs open again and licking his lips when he saw your glistening core, dripping down your thighs.
You latched your hands onto Lando's hair as he leaned down and licked your juices that had leaked out of your pussy, letting his mouth travel further to place you were eager for him to devour.
As he teased you, taking his time to get there, Lando noticed how your lips were twitching, clenching around nothing, begging for attention. He smirked again, ''I'm home baby, I'm gonna take care of you''
You tried not to think too deep at his words, he probably said that just because of how turned on he was, but something was telling you he meant something deeper, more meaningful.
Though your thoughts were cut off when he finally let his tongue run through your slick folds, slurping up your sticky juices before he found your clit and sucked on it roughly.
''Fuck me Lando'' you said as your legs were starting to close around his head but he stopped your movements by placing his strong hands on them, holding them down and in place.
''Oh I'm gonna fuck you, don't worry'' he said, spit and your wetness already making a mess on his face.
Lando suddenly thrust two fingers through your entrance causing your back to arch from the mirror, gasping for hair as he was already curling them at the right spongy spots, while his tongue still slaughtered your clit.
''Hmmm fuck, not gonna last long Lan'' you managed through your fuzzy brain, pulling at Lando's hair harder than before.
He sped up his movements, edging you on and within minutes you were a shuddering mess above him, releasing your cum straight into his mouth as he moaned at the taste of you, warm and salty.
''Shit Lando'' you said through gritted teeth and he slowed his fingers, eventually pulling them out and licking them clean, eyes darker than usual staring into yours.
It was what he did next though that had you already wet for more. He leaned forward and let your cum drip from his mouth into yours, then kissing you harshly as he lifted your ass off the counter and carried you back to his bedroom.
As he placed you back on the bed, hovering above you, you gave him access to your neck so you could try and catch your breath, get ready for what was to come next.
Your hands roamed his body, memorizing every outline of his muscles, before settling on his girth and sliding it through your folds a few times, lubing it up.
''Gonna be my whore and let me fill you up?'' he whispered, the nickname nothing new for you.
''Please, i need you'' you whined, getting impatient.
''Not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, yeah?''
''Give it to me'' you said, smiling eagerly.
And he did.
Lando slammed into your pussy with a force that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
He stayed still for a moment, allowing your body to accept the intrusion, until you nodded your head so he could start moving.
Lando pulled out completely before ramming into you again and again, showing you no mercy, the both of you moaning and on the edge of a high so delicious.
''So fucking tight, taking my big dick so well baby'' he murmured, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth, biting it through his teeth and sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body.
''Lan, please, I'm close''
''I know angel, you can let it out'' he said, because he was trying to hard not to let himself cum before you, though he was shamelessly ready to do so the minute he started fucking you.
''Cum quickly so i can fill you up and fuck a baby into you'' he said, not thinking his words through. Both your eyes widened, but quickly got replaced when your body was suddenly shaking, your orgasm ripping through you violently.
When Lando felt your walls clench painfully around his dick, he went into overdrive, and before he could register what was happening, he was emptying his load into you, ropes of cum milking its way deep into you as it was his turn to be shaking above you.
''Fuck y/n, fuck'' he cooed, both your hearts racing, groaning at the intensity of the situation.
Lando let his weight fall on your body as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, letting him bury his head in your neck.
You shivered as you felt his hot breath fanning over your sweaty sides, the cool air of the night also causing goosebumps along the rest of yours and his body.
You stayed like that for a while, Lando softening still inside of you until he moved and pulled out, both of you hissing at the loss contact. He disappeared into the bathroom to get a towel to clean you up - he always did. Once that was done and you were dressed again you knew it was time to leave even though you didn't want to.
Lando, wearing just his boxers climbed into bed while you sat there awkwardly at the edge of his bed. You wished he'd want you to lie next to him, cuddling each other, but you quickly had to wipe that though out of your head.
''I guess..I'll see you around you said, grabbing your phone off his side table.
''Yeah, I'll call. In town for a bit'' he said, catching your hand and bringing to his lips for a quick kiss.
And with that you smiled and left.
You didn't hear from him for about a week, until the morning he was leaving for Monza.
''How quickly can you get to mine?'' was all he'd texted.
Before you could respond, he sent another one.
''Leaving for Monza in 45, come over for a quick 'un?''
''I'm on my way'' you replied.
He was standing in his foyer, waiting for you, and the minute you walked in he had you pressed against the shut door.
Lando wasted no time in bunching your work dress up and sliding your panties to the side, quickly thrusting two fingers into you as you cupped his face and kissed him roughly.
He bought your orgasm over you quickly, breath harsh on your neck as you trembled in his arms.
You both hadn't even said anything to each other, too lost in getting down to business.
Lando quickly unzipped his jeans and freed his hard cock from its constraints, pumped himself a few times before lining up at you entrance.
He held you by your hips against the door, pushing himself into you quickly, bottoming out, and this time gave you no chance to get used to him - instead he fucked into you hard and fast, the both of you moaning with each thrust as you looked at each other, lost in a wave of ecstasy.
''Lando, uh'' you moaned as you felt him deep within you, your walls clenching around him achingly.
''I know'' he said through breaths, bringing his thumb down to toy with your clit, which in turn sent you into another orgasmic bliss, your liquid gushing on to him like a tidal wave as your body was once again shaking in his arms.
''So good'' you managed to whisper as he increased his movements, chasing his high as he become clumsier and sloppier by the second.
Then he came hard and fast, filling you up with the warm sticky liquid as he chanted your name over and over, leaning down to kiss you, biting on you bottom lip as you both came down from you high.
This time there was no time to clean you up. He kissed you once more before rushing out, leaving you to clean yourself and lock up with the spare key you had, your heart clenching from wanting more.
Your phone buzzed, you saw he'd just put 3000 pounds into your account. That no more excited you though. Money and materialistic things were nothing compared to the life you wanted with all of him. But you still thanked him.
3 weeks later and you knew he was on summer break though he hasn't texted you. You convinced yourself he was probably still out of the country.
Another two weeks had passed with no contact. You missed him so much. You missed the sex, so much. Pleasuring yourself was not remotely close to how Lando made you feel.
Now a whole 5 weeks later and you were so tempted to message him, see where he was. You'd seen on social media that he had in fact been home during these weeks, but you held out because what if he didn't want to see you? What if he was done with you? You don't think you could handle the rejection if you heard the words from his mouth - so rather let it end without any words being spoken.
You'd just finished work and had stopped by a restaurant to get some takeout for dinner. While sitting and waiting for your order you heard his voice. You both looked at each other at the same time, his eyes widening when he saw you. He was with Martin Garrix, who rushed over to you and enveloped you in a big hug as Lando stood there awkwardly before he walked up to you. Martin left to go to the bathroom.
You tried to keep a neutral face, tried to keep the blush off your face. He looked so hot in his tank top and shorts, a necklace gracing his neck, and his lush curls which bounced off in different directions as he ran a hand through his hair.
''Hey'' he said, sliding a hand into his pocket.
You cleared your throat. ''Uh hey, wasn't sure you were back'' you said, pretending you hadn't known his every where-about for the summer.
''Yeah, just been busy'' he said.
It had never been this awkward before, the both of you just staring at each other, not knowing what to say, but a teasy blush on both your cheeks.
Not 10 minutes later and you were riding him in his Mclaren. If someone asked you how you ended up like this, you wouldn't know the answer. All you knew what how good it felt to finally be fucking him again. You were sat on top of him, dress bunched up to your waist, and his shorts half way down his legs as you rode him, hard and fast.
Lando's mouth were stuck on your boobs, showing your nipples no mercy, while you hands ran through his hair multiple times, pulling and tugging at it.
Luckily he was parked in a secluded area, but surely the people walking by could hear the two of you. But you didn't care. Your moans you obscene, while his just sounded sexy as hell, praising you through gritted teeth at how good you were for him, how he missed his slut.
You came at the same time, shuddering and shaking in each others arms as you rode out your highs, Lando finally cupping your face and kissing you like his life depended on it, like he was savoring the moment.
As you stopped moving, you allowed your body to slump forward onto him, trying to catch your breath as he lazily played with your hair.
''Sorry I didn't call sooner'' he said, tucking your hair behind your ears and kissing you gently.
''It's ok. Just don't wait this long. I've needed you, Lando''
''Oh, i can drop you some money now'' he said, moving to get his phone straight away.
It took you a minute to realize what was happening until your brain caught up.
''What?'- No, no, Lando that's now what i meant'' you said quickly.
''No?'' he asked.
You took a breath. ''I mean I've missed you. As in you! Physically'' you said, sending him a wink.
He couldn't keep his own smile in. ''Yeah?''
''Uh huh'' you said, kissing him again.
''Well then, I promise. I'll always tell you when I'm back in town''
''Thank you'' you said, pecking him once more before lifting yourself off him and putting your pantie right again.
Since then, Lando had actually texted you multiple times. He'd even called you. You'd had phone sex too. And as much as you were enjoying all this, you still wished for more.
The next time you saw he showed up unannounced at your house. You'd just been having a lazy Saturday night in, wearing just a robe and nothing else when your door bell rang.
You looked through the peephole and couldn't have opened the door faster. There stood a breathless Lando, eyes dark and intense.
You pulled him in. ''Hey, you okay? Why're you so out of breath? you asked, concern etched on your face.
''Because i ran here. Was forced into going on a date, was halfway through when i realized something''
Your heart clenched at hearing him say he was on a date, but you stood strong.
''What's that?'' you barely whispered.
''I want you. Only you. All of you'' he said, cupping your face, waiting for you to answer him.
''I-What?''
''Dammit it y/n. I want you, all of you. I've wanted all of you since the first day we met''
''Lando'' you said raising your hands to rest on top of his, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.
''I like you, so much, and I want to do life with you'' he whispered, his breath hot on your face.
''Fuck. I like you too Lando, too much. I-I-''
But before you could finish your sentence he crashed his lips to yours. Urgent and feverish, literally taking your breath away as you pulled him closer and moaned into his mouth.
He picked you up by your ass and carried you to your room, dropping you on the bed before hovering above you.
''You're mine now y/n, for as long as you'll have me'' he said, slowly stripping your robe off, eyes darkening even more when he saw you were wearing nothing underneath.
''Fucking hell'' he mumbled, his large calloused hands squeezes your boobs as his eyes stayed glue to them.
''Lando, more'' you begged, beginning to remove his belt and strip his own clothes off.
''Relax baby, we've got all the time'' he said, smirking at you.
Once he was finally left in just his boxers, you slid your hands past them, taking his thick dick and pumping him as his lips found yours again.
''Gonna make you feel good, yeah?'' he asked.
''Fuck, please. Fuck me''
Lando's fingers slid down and rolled through your folds harshly, pinching your clit, before letting 3 fingers enter you at once.
''Getting you ready for me, open for me'' he said, voice thick with his British accent.
He roughly thrust his fingers in and out of you, while his other hand rolled your left nipple between his fingers.
When he was done with your boobs, he moved his whole body down as his fingers still fucked your cunt, and this time he added his mouth into action.
Violently lapping and sucking at your core as if he was starved, while all you could do was let out a series of filthy moans, pulling at his hair.
''That's it baby, go on'' he said, praising you for how good you were doing for him.
Within minutes you were quivering, your orgasm washing through you as you came all over his face and fingers, not slowing his movements until you eventually came a second time, all but screaming his name.
''Lan'' you said between breaths, trying your best to let your brain catch up to what was happening. ''Fuck, so good. I-I, taste you. Need to taste you'' you said, already trying to get out his grip and onto your knees, through he stopped you.
''Later, need to fuck you first'' he said, sternly.
You didn't argue because you were also desperate to feel him fill you up.
Lando shred his boxers off and ran his cock through your folds a few times.
The action had you pussy trying to clench desperately around something.
Just as he was about to push in, he stopped, looking at you with a smirk.
''Wanna try something new?'' he asked.
''Uh huh'' you were quick to reply.
He got shy for literally a second, then his eyes went dark again.
''Anal?'' he asked softly.
Your breath hitched. It had been something you'd talked about but never got round to actually doing.
When he saw you got quiet, he quickly added ''Shit, we don't have to,'' trying to resume pushing his dick into you.
''What-fuck. Yes, I want to'' you said breathlessly.
''Yeah?
''Please'' you said, already successfully shimmying out of his grasp and turning your body around, taking a hold of the headboard as you stuck your ass in the air.
Lando's hands gently ran all over your ass, squeezing your cheeks and giving you a few gentle slaps, just fun, nothing hectic.
''Gonna stretch you out a bit?''
''Ýeah. Do whatever, I'm yours'' you said, biting your lip in anticipation.
Lando leaned down and gave you a few fluttering kisses and his index finger toyed at your entrance for a bit.
He pulled away and reached it to your mouth, letting you suck it and coat it in your spit before he returned it to your hole and gently started to push in.
You held your breath, shut your eyes, not knowing what to expect.
''That's it baby, tell me if you want me to stop'' he said, pushing in some more.
''No, keep going''
Just as he was about half way in, he quickly popped his middle finger into his own mouth before letting that too slide through and into you.
Feeling both of his rough fingers had you moaning, gasping for air, as Lando started to thrust them in and out of you now.
''You're doing so good. How does it feel?''
''Weird. But so good. Fuck Lando'' you said through heavy breaths.
Not 5 minutes later and your cum was gushing out of you with no warning, your body shaking as you held on tight on to the headboard.
Lando leaned down and licked up everything he good, moaning at how good you tasted.
''Think you're ready for me?'' he asked, unable to keep a smirk off his face.
''Always'' you said, turning around for a quick kiss, also leaning down to give Lando's dick a few quick sucks, leaving as much spit as you could, before settling into position again.
Lando lined himself up, holding onto your waist with one hand as he slowly pushed in.
All air had left your lungs as you held your breath. Feeling him slide through you was unexplainable.
The stretch was sore, so bloody sore, but at the same time, just the though of it being Lando who was filling you up turned you on so much that your brain shut the pain out and replaced it with pleasure.
Once he was fully in, Lando stayed still for a couple of moments, the both of you speechless at the feeling, lost in your own dirty thoughts, until you moved forwards and backwards again.
''Fuck Lando, move, please'' you begged.
''Huh? -Fuck, sorr- sorry. Feels so fucking good i just blanked out for a moment'' he said, voice low and raspy.
He started moving, thrusting in and out of you, while you found you voice again and let out multiple lewd moans.
''Fucking hell, you're so good. So tight. I-I-I''m so lucky'' Lando mumbled.
You felt another orgasm approaching hard and fast, your movements slowing so Lando had to take full control now.
''Uh Lando, gonna cum''
''Go on, let it out, that's it baby'' he said, edging you on.
You bit you lip again as you felt your release, washing through your body which felt like jelly as Lando held you up and adored your whole being, praising you to end.
He pulled out completely and handled your body so you were now laying on your back, legs being spread and pushed up by his strong hands before he was thrusting his dick into you again, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it as your nails dug deep into his back muscles, scratching at him, probably drawing blood.
''That's it baby. I know you have more in you'' he said, movements becoming faster and erratic.
You wrapped your legs around him as tight as you could, the new angle having him hit all the right spots in you as you nibbled on his ear.
Suddenly you were having another orgasm, shaking under him as he slowed his movements for a minute, riding you through the mix of pain and pleasure, and once you'd calmed down bit, he increased his pace again, eagerly hunting his own release now.
''Fuck Lando I can't. Too much'' you said, barely able to talk and keep your eyes open.
''One more baby, one more. Together, yeah?'' he said, knowing that although you were saying that, you probably didn't want him to stop.
''Hmm'' was all you could mumble out as Lando's movements were getting sloppy, his dick twitching against your walls, sending you into another orgasmic bliss, with him following you not long after.
You felt as he shot his cum deep within you, filling you up and painting your walls white and both your bodies were shuddering and shivering, fucked out to the core.
He let his weight fall on you, as he often did after amazing sex, and cuddled you as you held him as tight as you could.
The cool air on your sweaty skin had goosebumps raise on your skin again, your body quivering in his arms as he pulled back and locked lips with yours in a tender and loving kiss. Not rough and fast like most of the time.
''You're freezing, let's get you cleaned up'' he said, making his way to pull out of you.
The loss of contact had Lando groaning, and when you looked down at where you were joined moments ago, you stopped him from walking to the bathroom.
''I-Wait!'' you squealed, pulling him back to you.
''You good?'' he asked.
You didn't answer him though. Instead you leaned down and took his mighty girth into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl all around him, swallowing al the juices that coated his dick, before letting him free again.
''Now I'm good'' you said, smirking at him.
'''Fucking dirty menace'' he said, leaning down to give you one final rough kiss before disappearing into the bathroom.
Once you were all cleaned up and wearing one of Lando's hoodies that he'd left in your house last time, you both curled into bed, your legs thrown over his as your head rested on his chest.
You were talking about everything and nothing.
At one point, Lando looked down at you, smirking.
''So does this mean I'm your boyfriend?'' he cheekily asked.
You couldn't help the blush that formed on your cheeks.
''Yes, my love. My boyfriend.''
''Well, I love you, my girlfriend''
You breath hitched. Hearing the words you've been wanting to hear the day you first met made your heart swell with butterflies.
You leaned on your elbow as you cupped his face. ''I love you too'' you said, before kissing him, pouring every bit of the love you felt for him into it.
He kissed you back with the same passion, and with that you dozed off, excited for what was to come, now that you were finally together.
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Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko
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AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo
~1400 word count
Part 2 once your done reading :)
SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...
The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.
You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.
"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.
On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.
Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.
"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.
While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.
You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.
Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.
Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."
Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.
Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"
'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'
You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.
Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.
You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.
Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.
"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.
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mcmansionhell · 11 months
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pre-recession, post-taste
Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That's why I've gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.
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Our present house is ostensibly "French Provincial" in style, which is McMansion for "Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano". It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.
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Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity's sake, I'll only provide two of them.
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With regards to the second sitting room, I'm really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.
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Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.
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Here's the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America's most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!
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Okay I really don't understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?
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Here's a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)
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Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn't. I wish I couldn't read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.
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When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.
Anyway, let's see what the rear of this house has to offer.
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The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?
Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!
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